Familiarity
by doctorkaitlyn
Summary: There's a familiarity between her sons that unsettles her. Part two thus far of The Sound of Storms modern day AU universe. Contains heavily implied Thor/Loki, as seen through Frigga's eyes.


**Author's Note: **Once again, this is part of the modern day AU universe that I've taken to calling "The Sound of Storms." If it isn't obvious, I'm not writing these in the correct order but as of right now, this happens to be the first that takes place in the universe. R&R is lovely and very welcome. xo.

**Familiarity.**

There's a familiarity between her sons that unsettles her.

She notices it first on a hot, summer's day. Outside, the humidity is through the roof, making it difficult to breathe and the sun is beating down hard enough to make sweat instantly erupt. She only knows this from looking out the windows, of course; she's chosen to stay inside until the heat warning is gone. Thor and Loki apparently have the same idea; even from her position at the kitchen table, she can hear them in the den, hollering at each other over the newest video game. Inwardly, she's quite pleased that they both have chosen to stay inside; Loki burns so easily and dealing with the aftermath is unpleasant for all of them. But their yelling _is _getting on her nerves and it's certainly interrupting her reading. She puts up with it as long as she can (which is all of five minutes) before putting her novel down on the table and heading towards the den.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's thinking that the boys would be quieter if Odin was home. But he's not; he very rarely is nowadays, almost totally immersed in the running of his company. She doesn't complain about his absence. After all, his work has paid for their home and for the air conditioner and the game system that is keeping Loki and Thor occupied. But she does miss doing things as a family, with all four of them instead of just her and the boys.

She stops in the door of the den, meaning to gently scold her sons, but her words never make it out of her throat. Instead, she merely leans against the door frame, silently observing, not entirely sure what is odd about the scene before her. From the doorway, she has a view of her boys sitting on the sofa, leaning forward, knuckles almost as white as the controllers they clutch. They're playing some kind of shooting game, although she doesn't know which one; all the video games have started to blend together for her. Nonetheless, it's a scene she's bared witness to dozens of times; Loki and Thor, competing against each other in some virtual world, getting a little rambunctious. But there's something, something _small _that is different and odd.

There it is. It's how Loki is sitting. Usually, Loki lets his long legs sprawl wherever he pleases, sticking his feet up on the coffee table or on the chair opposite him at dinner. But now, he seems perfectly content to sit cross legged, his knee resting on the arm of the sofa. However, that's not all and, without really paying attention, she takes another step into the room, just enough so that she can get a better view of her sons, who have yet to notice her presence.

While one of Loki's feet is undoubtedly dug into the couch cushions, the other is buried underneath Thor's thigh. The position doesn't look physically comfortable for either of them but they seem perfectly content, fingers moving furiously, the sound of simulated gunshots filling the room. It's only when the gunshots stop that Thor turns and finally notices her, sheepishly smiling.

"Sorry, Mother. We were being loud, weren't we?"

"Perhaps a little," she replies, forcing herself to smile. She's not sure why, but she feels uneasy, an odd trembling feeling in her stomach. She doesn't know why Loki's sitting position is bothering her so; maybe they'd been too caught up in their game to notice. That sounds like a plausible excuse and, with their promise to quiet down, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her for good measure.

However, she can't help but notice, just before she shuts the door, that neither of them have moved. Nonetheless, she forces the thoughts from her head. She knows that she's probably over analyzing the situation and there's no point in worrying about it. She has more important things to concern herself with; like with the novel that she's been trying to finish reading for a month.

She leaves Thor and Loki alone for the rest of the day and, true to their word, they are much quieter. Only an occasional yell or muffled curse makes it through the door of the den and they're nothing too serious. She manages to finish her novel by the late afternoon, just before she receives a phone call from Odin that says he won't be home until the early morning. It isn't a surprise to her; she's lucky if she sees Odin before midnight anymore.

She decides that it seems like as good a night as any to have pizza and a movie with her sons.

* * *

She lets Thor pick the movie, even though she could probably make an educated guess as to what he would choose. Her eldest has always enjoyed action films, especially those about the Romans and Greeks; it's a taste he definitely inherited from his father. Loki, on the other hand, is far less picky about what he watches and he doesn't appear to mind watching the same movie for the twelfth time.

Therefore, _Spartacus _it is.

For awhile, she concentrates on the movie, practically able to quote entire passages. After about an hour, however, she flicks her gaze over to her sons and feels her stomach start to twist again. From her position in Odin's armchair, she has a full view of Thor and Loki and what she sees fills her with something akin to dread. She doesn't know when it happened, but Loki has moved, lying down with one of his legs dangling off of the couch. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be an issue but it's more where Loki's _head _has relocated that has her drumming her fingernails off of her seat.

His head is squarely in Thor's lap, resting on his older brother's thigh. His hair is askew, covering his eyes but she's almost certain that he's asleep, his chest gently rising and falling. With only the flickering light from the television illuminating him, he looks even more pale than usual. Thor doesn't seem to be bothered by his brother's intrusion into his personal space; indeed, even as she looked on, Thor tore his eyes away from the screen and brushed a lock of Loki's long, black hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. The action, simple as it was, makes her stomach churn anyways. She recognizes it as something Odin used to do to her when they were beginning their relationship; he'd press his fingers against her jawbone as he went, like he was trying to memorize the very feeling of her skin.

Apparently, a fondness for soldier movies wasn't the only mannerism Thor had inherited from his father.

"Loki." The word is quiet, barely audible over the sound of the still-playing movie. She's still trying to get used to how deep Thor's voice has gotten; she remembers when it was still cracking. But now, he undoubtedly sounds like the man he is growing up to be. Loki stirs, but only to wriggle further into the couch, mussing his hair up once again.

She reminds herself to take him to the hairdresser sometime soon.

"Loki, you should go to bed," Thor says, bending slightly at the waist. "You don't need to finish the movie with us."

"I'm not tired," Loki grumbles and despite the circumstances, she almost finds herself laughing. Loki has always been so stubborn, in all aspects of his life.

"That's a lie and you know it." The only response from Loki is a grunt before he goes back to sleep, flicking his hair away from his face. Thor gives an exaggerated sigh and sends a smile at her; one she finds hard pressed to return, but which she does nonetheless. There is no point in letting him read the worry on her face, after all.

"Stubborn as always," he says, before standing up, with Loki draped in his arms. It isn't a clumsy hold; she can tell that Thor is holding his brother carefully, not letting his head dangle free. She's not surprised that Thor has no difficulty carrying Loki. He's always been strong for his age, laced with muscle even without attempting to gain it.

"Will you be coming back down?" she asks, the words nearly getting stuck in her mouth. Thor shrugs and Loki sniffles in his sleep, resting his head on Thor's shoulder.

"I'm feeling a little tired myself," he admits, yawning to prove his point. "But thank you, Mother, for watching _Spartacus_... again."

"It was no problem for me," she says, smiling as best as she can. "Goodnight, my son."

After he leaves, she turns off the movie and sits in darkness, letting her thoughts take over. She knows now that she can't possibly be over-analyzing the situation. She knows the signs too well, recognizes the motions from experience. There is something there, a _familiarity _in the way they touch each other that goes beyond a normal familial relationship. It's more the way you touch someone who means the world to you.

She doesn't know what to do. On one hand, it is obvious to her that whatever relationship has developed between Loki and Thor is dangerous, to both of them. Even if they aren't brothers by blood, they were raised that way; even if they have erased that bond in favor of forging another, no one will accept it. She knows that she couldn't and she certainly knows that Odin wouldn't.

But on the other hand... it was already summer. At the end of the season, Thor would be leaving for university and Loki would be remaining behind to finish his final year of high school. Perhaps, by that point, whatever they were doing would fizzle out on its own accord.

Or perhaps it wouldn't. She truly, doesn't know. She doesn't think there are any self-help books out there for situations like this. Maybe if she went searching online, she'd find a support group or something but that isn't exactly her thing. She's never really been one to speak up.

Eventually, she heads upstairs, her head pounding. She does note, however, that Thor's bedroom door is still open, revealing a certain type of organized chaos that she's never been able to cure. With the moonlight drifting in through the window, she can see that the bed is empty, still the same tangled mess of sheets and blankets that it was when she walked by in the morning.

Across the hall, however, Loki's bedroom door is shut tight. She forces herself to walk by, even though the temptation to knock is nearly overwhelming. She's not sure that she wants to know what is happening on the other side of the wood.

When Odin comes in at half past one in the morning, she's still lying awake, staring out the window, trying so desperately not to think. When he slides in beside her and brushes her hair away from her face, she has to swallow down a sob.

It's not the familiarity between her sons that unsettles her; it's the implications of that familiarity. You only see that kind of comfort between persons who know each other so deeply, who are really each other's halves. You only see it between two people who are in love.

She doesn't know what to do.


End file.
